


All Sixes and Seven (Days)

by Aikori_Ichijouji



Series: The Ren x Kyoko Week Happy Family Buffet [4]
Category: Skip Beat!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Magical Girls, Angst, Angsty Ren, During Canon, F/M, Fluff and Humor, Kyoko/Ren Week, Kyoko/Ren Week 2020, LoveMe Girl shenanigans, Post-Canon, Ren is having a lot of feels this year okay?, Yashiro sass, contemplative Ren, hilarious innuendoes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-06
Updated: 2020-07-12
Packaged: 2021-03-05 05:15:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 10,357
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25078981
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aikori_Ichijouji/pseuds/Aikori_Ichijouji
Summary: "But time will not permit: all is uneven. And everything is left at six and seven."A hastily kludged together collection of mostly canon divergent stories (with one AU thrown in the middle for good measure) just in time for RenxKyoko Week 2020. It's fluffy. It's funny. It's angsty. It tap dances all over the canon timeline with a jazzy shuffle-ball-change. And, hopefully, it's a fun read for you all this year.Goodness knows we need it with everything else that's going on.
Relationships: Mogami Kyoko/Tsuruga Ren
Series: The Ren x Kyoko Week Happy Family Buffet [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1388809
Comments: 45
Kudos: 36
Collections: A Collection of KyokoRen Week Participant Fics





	1. Prelude to an Elevator

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Starting things off with a little angsty self-reflection and no one does angst better than our dear sweet Ren.
> 
> _for the July 6th 'chance' prompt_

My only wish is that this never turns into something it isn’t. What isn’t it, you ask? It isn’t an ending. At least, I don’t want it to be an ending. Maybe we should call it an impasse of our own making. Me, with my head full of petty jealousies and immature behaviors. You, with your heart full of caution and regret. Yes, let’s call this an impasse. That would mean that nothing can end because nothing can move forward.

Honestly, I would love to hold myself accountable and absolve you completely and for that to be the end of it, though I know any attempt I’d be capable of would never meet your exacting standards. But I also know that the depths of what I hold in my heart for you could never be measured by those standards. Or anyone else’s for that matter.

The fact that I may end up spending the remainder of my days seeking atonement doesn’t escape me. Instead, it haunts me whether I’m awake or asleep, whispering epithets in my ear and telling me I was never worthy of you. I ran aground in the tempest of your anger and I’ve been left to cling for dear life to the mast while you rend my ship to splinters. If I say it, will you stop? If I say it, will you believe me?

I was wrong.

I was wrong, I was wrong, I was wrong.

Goodness knows this isn’t the first time we’ve clashed steel. So much of our history is peppered with conflicts that seem dulled by the times of laughter and sweet smiles sandwiched between.

You throw an obscene gesture and then care for me while I’m ill with a tenderness I haven’t known since I left my family behind.

I give you a rose for your birthday and then shatter your phone against a hotel room wall because a wretched relic from your past tried to reach you.

That means we can bounce back from this. We’ve done it so many times before, and this time shouldn’t be any different. Just wait until what was down is up again and the cycle continues.

Right?

But this is so much more, isn’t it? So much more than arrogant accusations. So much more than caustic comments. So much more than mindless misunderstandings. We built a house of cards on a foundation made of self-preservational lies because we keep doing this again and again and again and again until inevitably we’ll...

Break.

But, before we can break, you bend. You want to take a break instead. Spend time apart, at least, if your continued avoidance of me can be interpreted as such. And, maybe, things will be better for both of us. But, maybe things will be better if we have an honest conversation for a change. Of course, this is us we’re talking about. We have a better chance of telling the sun to set in the East.

Do you remember when you held my hand after the accident on set? When I fancied myself a stunt driver? You never knew it then, but you pulled me from a very dark place. It was full of secrets and tears and blood and broken glass, and I want to show it to you someday because I don’t think my words would ever suffice. I want you to understand just how you saved me. Because I’m kind of counting on you to keep saving me.

So I’m taking a chance. A chance to tell you what I’ve held back for far longer than I thought I could. A chance to explain to you, once and for all, the feelings I’ve hidden behind harsh words and posturing.

That’s why this can’t be an ending.

It can’t because _you’re_ my ending.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This year's ship week is gonna be an angst sandwich with fluff and humor packed full to bursting in between. Prepare yourselves.


	2. F.M.K.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Kyoko takes a magazine article a little too seriously and Chiori encourages her to have a conversation with a beloved senpai that she normally would have avoided. Because who doesn't love a little manufactured drama?
> 
> _for the July 7th 'pictures' prompt_

“Ugh, Kawagoe Michika. Kill, kill, kill,” Chiori muttered under her breath.

Kanae slid into the booth next to her with one eyebrow raised. “I thought you’d rehabilitated your borderline homicidal ways, Amamiya-san.”

“I did.” she rolled her eyes. “But this article is doing little to help matters.”

Chiori rolled back the pages of the latest issue of Boost she held to show the article in question. Kanae leaned over, noting the use of brightly colored fonts and ridiculously flattering pictures of celebrities surrounded by hearts and stars. She read the title and only just managed to hold back the guffaw of laughter that threatened to sneak out. Across from them, Kyoko nudged her drink to one side and leaned forward to get a better look.

“What is this?” she asked, pulling the magazine from Chiori’s hand.

“Well,” the word stretched from Chiori like soft mochi as her lips stretched into a sly smile, “it’s a list of the top twenty celebrities that people would most like to kill, marry or fu—”

“Chiori,” Kanae cut her off with a warning tone, her eyes shifting to glance over at Kyoko.

“What?” Chiori’s face was the picture of insincere innocence. “She’s not a child. We can use vulgar language around her. Once she’s in this industry long enough, she’ll hear a lot worse.”

Their bickering was for naught as Kyoko ignored them in favor of skimming through the lists. The names were in ascending order and the lettering increased in size once it got to the top ten. Her face tried to twist itself into knots when she didn’t see two names in particular on the ‘Kill’ list. She quickly flattened it out in hopes that no one else would notice her slip up. But that was nothing compared to the facial gymnastics she performed when she moved on to the top three of the other two lists.

“This is unforgivable,” she protested, holding the magazine out at arms’ length like it was covered in slime.

“What is?”

“Why is Tsuruga-san at the top of this list but not on that one? Worst of all his name is lower than… than… _him_ ,” she said the last word with heavy disgust.

“I mean, doesn’t that make sense?” Chiori interjected. “Most people would probably see themselves marrying someone driven and mature like Tsuruga-san.”

“But this list implies he is less attractive than Fuwa Sho,” she spat out the name like phlegm caught in her throat then continued with her tirade. “That’s impossible. Did they not watch Dark Moon? He has more sex appeal in his left pinky than that arrogant singer has in his entire body.”

“Oh really?!” Chiori purred.

Chiori heard the delightful sound of Kyoko clamping down on the bait and her lips stretched into a wide grin. Kanae went pale at the sight of it, fearing what was to follow. She awaited whatever was about to come out of LoveMe Number Three’s mouth with wary, narrowed eyes.

“Does that mean you want to fu—”

“Amamiya-san!” Kanae was quick on the draw, stopping Chiori (again) before she could further embarrass their friend.

“It was a simple question.” Chiori shrugged it off. “But there’s nothing wrong with the rankings. Fuwa-san is a musician whose brand is his voice in addition to his face and it’s extremely common for singers to be marketed as having this raw, magnetic type of sexuality to them. It’s part of what keeps the screaming fans coming back for more.”

The other two were stunned by her logical reasoning and sat in silence. Chiori resisted preening in front of them and, instead, reveled in their shock.

“Besides, that whole Prisoner music video? A demon falling in love with an angel? If that doesn’t scream innuendo I don’t know what does,” she continued. “Tsuruga-san may be the popular choice as a romantic lead in dramas and movies, but he’s going to have to take more risks and turn more heads as he did as Katsuki if he wants to move up on this list.”

Kanae took a long sip from her glass before sighing and shaking her head. Kyoko, on the other hand, looked thoughtful. Two fingers lightly encircled straw sticking out of the oolong tea she’d ordered, their position was long forgotten as she stared into the distance with her lips pressed into a thin line. At one point she even nodded, agreeing with some unspoken thought in her head.

“Mou, Kyoko, I don’t know who you’re talking to up there but you’re leaving the rest of us out of the conversation.”

“Sorry, ” she apologized. “I was just processing Amamiya-san’s argument and she made some very good points. Tsuruga-san has taken mostly safe roles that sort of stay within a certain realm with few exceptions.”

Kanae just shrugged. “That’s probably because of what’s been offered to him. He has a pretty face that is perfect for a very specific subset of characters.”

This prompted Kyoko to ponder the situation behind Tragic Marker. Sure, there was a certain exhilaration to be had from masquerading as a different actor, but what was it about Tsuruga Ren that made it impossible for him to show up on set as himself? She wasn’t sure she wanted to think too hard about that potential answer.

“It’s just not fair.” Kyoko pouted, pushing her straw around her drink. “He puts so much effort into every role, he should be able to choose from anything he wants to do.”

“And have everyone in this country want to bone him?“ Chiori asked with a dry laugh.

“I mean, it’s sort of similar to the reason why President Takarada put us in this special division isn’t it?” Kyoko poked the tips of her index fingers together and looked down at the table, trying to hide the pink in her cheeks behind her hair.

“It’s not similar at all,” Kanae chimed in, flatly.

“Can you imagine if it was?” Chiori guffawed. “LoveMe would have a much more explicit name.”

“Oh my goodness, no. That’s not what I meant at all,” Kyoko cried and all pretense of hiding her embarrassment vanished. “I just meant that, as actors have we truly explored the full extent of our talent if we can’t convince people to see us in all sorts of ways? Even… even th-that way.”

“Do you think you’ll talk to Tsuruga-san about this?”

Chiori asked the question with her true intentions never showing on her face. There was something incomparably satisfying about egging on Kyoko when it came to her esteemed mentor. She’d sussed them both out a while ago, but was content to leave them to their own devices. LME’s president meddled more than enough to make up for it anyway. Still, when perfect opportunities presented themselves to her, she was loath to let them slip by without stirring things up at least a little bit. It was almost as enjoyable as writing in her poison notebooks.

Kyoko wrinkled her nose. “Absolutely not. It would be inadvisable for someone like me to even consider it.”

“I dunno.” Chiori shrugged. “Maybe you’ll get some interesting insight from him as to why he’s made the choices he has. For all you know, it could be intentional and he prefers being in that spot on the list.”

Kyoko went quiet again and Kanae wondered how she could be giving Chiori’s ideas any merit. There was no way Tsuruga Ren put that much thought into his ranking in a list so inconsequential. Unless it served only to spark the type of debate in which they’d engaged, thus making him the subject of conversation across the country. If that was the case, then it wasn’t Ren who deserved the accolades.

She huffed a quiet laugh to herself. It was his manager who was the evil genius.

Lost in thought as she was, she mostly missed when Kyoko noticed the time and shimmied her way out of the booth to leave. She only caught the tail end of her thanking Chiori for her thoughts and that she would consider asking Ren about the article. She was gone before Kanae could suggest that she reconsider. Looking over at the remaining fellow LoveMe member, Kanae frowned.

“Did you have to encourage her like that ?”

“No,” Chiori admitted between laughs that grew more devious by the second. “But can you imagine being a fly on the wall during that conversation?”

* * *

“Mogami-san, I’m not sure I’m comfortable with having this discussion.”

Ren flinched—actually flinched—away from the magazine Kyoko brandished; a picture of his face smiled back at him from the page. She’d all but ambushed him with an article he hadn’t yet seen when they met at his apartment for dinner the following evening and the fight to keep his eyebrows from fleeing into his hairline while he read was arduous. That sort of thing was typically handled by his manager, provided it was worth paying attention to in the first place. Needless to say, he was woefully unprepared to talk about it.

Especially with her.

To be fair, Kyoko wasn’t doing any better. She was operating on pure adrenaline and audacity that was quickly waning. Neither of them could look the other in the eye, which was both a godsend and a crime as they missed the cherry-stained cheeks each of them wore.

“I—I just wanted to know if you were concerned at all by your rankings.” She nudged clumps of rice around her bowl, talking more to it than to the person sitting across from her. “If it was something to be concerned about… you know… for future reference.”

Being the slow eater that he was, Ren was grateful to not have food in his mouth at that time. The probability that he would have choked on it was impossibly high. Still, he cleared his throat of some invisible obstacle before responding. It would be very hypocritical of him to say that he hoped her name never ends up in an article like that. It would also be very selfish, he realized.

“I think it’s an indicator of how impactful you, and the characters you portray, are. A lot of people tend to equate us with the roles we play.”

“That’s what Amamiya-san said too,” she said, sounding somewhat disappointed.

He frowned in confusion. “Was there some other wisdom you were hoping I’d provide?”

“I wanted to know how you felt about it. Does it challenge you at all to try for more diverse roles so that you can change the way the public views you? Should it even be viewed as a challenge? Does it have any merit in being used as a benchmark for the work you’ve put in up until now?”

Kyoko paused to take a breath. At least, that’s what Ren hoped the reason was and that she wasn’t expecting him to chime in. The majority of his energy was focused on making sure he didn’t gape at her for taking such a magazine article so seriously. Then again, he wondered if he wasn’t taking it seriously enough.

“I got… I got upset when I saw where you were on th-that list,” Kyoko avoided calling it by name, hoping he’d know what she meant. “I thought you would have been ranked higher than Sho and, when you weren’t, it made me angry. But Amamiya-san managed to convince me that maybe you preferred that ranking and that’s why you don’t take more adventurous roles. And that got me thinking about you and Kain and Tragic Marker and—”

She trailed off, unsure of how to continue; her chopsticks long forgotten on the table and her hands flailed about without rhyme or reason. Ren reached out to capture one of them with his own, wrapping his fingers gently around hers. Kyoko stopped moving and looked at him with wide eyes.

“Mogami-san, it’s fine,” he assured her. “I have to admit that I haven’t put as much consideration into this as you have. I agreed to be part of Tragic Marker under a pseudonym because it was a low-risk way to branch out into a different type of role. If people were unhappy with my portrayal of Blackjack, it wouldn’t be associated with the name of Tsuruga Ren. If they loved it, well, that meant I could try a few more under my normal stage name. But all of that was done mostly for the sake of testing my growth as an actor.”

He thought to leave it at that, having said his piece. However, the urge to make an additional comment was strong and he gave in with almost no resistance.

“My ranking, as far as that particular piece of journalism is concerned, means very little to me in terms of public opinion. There’s only one person whose opinion would ever matter.” A coy smile tilted his lips.

“Oh?” Kyoko asked, mostly expecting Yashiro’s name to follow.

Ren nodded. “Yes, but she’s already told me that she believes I deserve the top spot on two of the lists.”

Kyoko’s confusion soon turned to realization and she felt her breath catch in her throat. Color flooded her cheeks and Ren basked in its crimson glory with smug satisfaction.

“O-oh,” she whispered.

Ren repositioned their hands to lace his fingers through hers. “Give me some time.” He leaned closer to her and intentionally dropped his voice lower. “I’ll make both of those come true.”

Once Kyoko regained the ability to breathe, she was probably going to give him hell for that.

But he wouldn’t have it any other way.

END

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That slightly spicy ending tho. I almost removed it and then thought "Nah, let's leave it in there; it makes me giggle."


	3. Outtake

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the series of videos Ren recorded for Kyoko to prove that he was eating properly after she left Guam, there was one he made that was never meant to be viewed. But Kyoko's getting the chance to watch it anyway.
> 
> _for the July 8th 'hide' prompt_

He should have deleted it the very next morning once he recalled its existence. Instead, he chose to keep it—his reasoning unknown to him at the time. He didn’t do anything special to hide it. He only moved it to a separate folder on his phone so that she wouldn’t accidentally watch it along with the other videos of him diligently eating that he recorded for her. It wasn’t meant for her.

Of course, that was not true at all. It was meant for her but he didn’t record it with the intention of her ever seeing it.

Regardless of what his intentions were at that time, that was about to change. Kyoko sat next to him, his phone clasped in one hand while the index finger of the other hovered over the play icon displayed on the screen. She looked up at him, apprehension telegraphed across her face. He encouraged her to proceed with a nod.

The video started blurry and dark. His face was mostly in shadow and everything around him was umber blobs of poorly lit furniture.

“It’s, uh, it’s a little after 3 here,” he said, his voice muffled by the hand gripping his phone. “I can’t sleep so I thought I’d see if this might help.”

A clink, followed by the sound of sloshing liquid preceded the appearance of one side of a blurry bottle. He shook it from side to side a few times, and the giggle (yes, it was a full-fledged giggle) he let out melded together with the hollow sound of liquid splashing against glass.

“I’ve had a biiiit more than I should’ve, so I’m gonna eat somethin’.” The bottle disappeared from view as he put it down and the camera was pulled closer to his face. “Be proud, Kyoko-chan.”

What followed was a wobbly upshot of Ren’s neck and chin as he got up and walked over to the tiny kitchen in the room. Everything was bathed in blinding light for a split second before the camera adjusted to show him rifling through a mini-refrigerator. For a few seconds, it was little more than his arm moving around the shelves and the crinkle of plastic. Eventually, he pulled back, and everything swooshed by when he stood up. More crinkling plastic noises ended with a splat and the camera was turned to show a bag of bread and a package of sliced cheese.

“Welcome to Ren’s Late Night Kitchen. Tonight we’re gonna be makin’ cheese toast but first—” A shot of the ceiling, then Ren’s hand and, finally, a crooked view of the upper half of his body bent over the counter. “—guest of honor needs a place to sit.”

He winked at the camera, giving it a lopsided grin and a little wave. The process of him extracting both bread and cheese from their confines became a bizarre pantomime of a cooking show. He introduced each ingredient with unnecessary grandeur, bringing both the packaging and the contents close to the camera to show them off. Once cheese blanketed bread, he looked satisfied for a moment, then his face turned thoughtful as he looked around him.

“So there’s no toaster oven here but, ah—” He held up one finger as if he experienced an epiphany. “Imo—impro—makin’ it up as you go along is an actor’s best skill.”

He loaded a napkin with his yet-to-be-cooked meal and placed them inside the microwave on the counter. Mumbling something to himself about how long to set the timer for, he jabbed at a few buttons on the console and the microwave whirred to life with an electric hum. Silence prevailed while he waited, watching the microwave and softly drumming his fingers on the countertop.

The groan of dismay from Kyoko and her tightened grip around the phone as she watched this transpire made him want to laugh and beg for her forgiveness. He glanced at her and saw the wince that twisted her face. They both knew how that endeavor would end; her from culinary experience and him from having lived it. Ren stifled a gag at the memory. His tongue still remembered the gluey blandness of it.

The cheery ding of the microwave brought his attention back to the video.

Bubbling squares of molten cheese-topped bread came out of the microwave. The Ren on-screen hissed when he nearly burned his fingers trying to grab one. He blew on his fingers, then blew on the toast while muttering a few curses under his breath. They took a few moments to register in his ears before he directed profuse apologies to the camera.

A tentative poke determined that the temperature of the cheese would not peel off the roof of his mouth and he shoved a slice past his lips. Whatever expression of hope that remained on his face disappeared for parts unknown after the first bite. He chewed slowly, grimacing as if each movement of his jaw was excruciating.

“It’s awful,” he said, his mouth still partially full. “Anything you made would’ve been a million times better.”

He swallowed and sighed, looking down at the mangled bread in his hand. “Everything you make tastes a million times better. I’d eat your cooking over anything else. Always.” The bread dropped from his hands and he looked down at it, dejected. “What a sorry state I’m in without you. I can’t sleep, I’m drinking at three in the morning, and I’m eating gross food. You were right to worry. You were right about everything.”

He ran both his hands down his face. After a loud exhale, he began to clean up the uneaten bread and cheese. His disappearance off-camera for a moment was accompanied by the swish of items dropping into a waste bin. When he returned, he leaned hard against the counter, digging his elbows in to tip closer to where his phone was propped up.

“I miss you, you know.” He hung his head, his voice pitched low and desolate. “I can’t sleep because you’re not here. I’m only eating so that you’ll think better of me when I see you again. The only time I’m not thinking about you is when I’m working and, honestly, that just makes it feel lonelier.”

The picture shook violently when he reached out to pick up the phone from the counter. “I think I’m going to try to get some rest. Again.” The background moved, he was walking. “That’s what you’d tell me to do if you were here right? I can’t do my best tomorrow without proper sleep. And if I don’t, it’ll hold up filming which means it’ll be that much longer until I can return to you.”

He paused to indulge in a self-deprecating laugh. “I’m starting to ramble like I’m your star-crossed lover who’s been sent off to war or something. Definitely means I should call it a night.” A thoughtful squint. “Or morning. Whatever.”

A soft thump in mostly darkness and the click of a bedside lamp illuminated his face half pressed into a pillow. The camera was much closer now, making the lines of fatigue deeper and the shadows around his eyes more pronounced.

“I’m guessing I'll delete this when I wake up, which is probably a good thing. I can only imagine how embarrassing this’ll seem in a few hours. But, on the off chance that I actually watch this again.” He pointed a purposeful finger. “To my sober future self, I say ‘tell Kyoko how much you love her, you coward. We can’t keep doing this.’”

The recording stopped there and an eerie quiet settled around them. Kyoko still held his phone but she wasn’t looking at it. Her eyes stared unfocused into the distance. A deep breath pushed noisily from her nose and she blinked once before looking up at him.

“Why would you show me this?” she asked, bewildered.

“I thought a bit more evidence might help my case.”

“Evidence?” she repeated, still confused.

He nodded. “Whenever I try to express my feelings you keep thinking that I’m joking or teasing you.”

“That’s because you are.” She punctuated her sentence with an indignant pout.

“And that, Your Honor, is exactly why you needed to see it.” Smiling, he took the phone from her, set it aside, and encircled her hands with his own. “Because, despite whatever it is you keep telling yourself, you have to know how important you are to me.”

He brought their hands up to his lips and pressed firmly, savoring their warmth before pulling them away. Kyoko’s light gasp only stretched his smile wider.

“And how hopeless I am without you.” She smiled in turn.

“That,” she laughed, “I already knew.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Step 1: Butter Yo' Shit - If I remember correctly, this started as a result of a silly conversation I had with a couple other fic writers where we made ridiculous references to My Drunk Kitchen (ah the fond YouTube memories). Things just sort of went from there. No regrets.


	4. Pretty Soldier Magical Boy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The magical girl AU I didn't know I needed to write and probably shouldn't have, but I did it anyway. This was written long before we learned the true significance behind Ren’s necklace. So, in this, it’s his Moon Prism Power. Fair enough warning, I think.
> 
> _for the July 9th 'family' prompt_

A horde of vaguely humanoid shadows had him backed against a wall on the rooftop of the Fuji Television building. Another night, another battle against some random attack initiated by an as-yet-unnamed antagonist bent on world domination—or, at least city domination. Why Tokyo always seemed to be a hotbed of otherworldly activity, he had no idea.

Luck was with him, however, and he watched a swarm of smoky indigo spirits—each bearing the very familiar face of their wielder—tightly wrap their ghostly tails around the necks of the fiends before him. Using the distraction, he jumped upward and managed to clear the entire group that had huddled around him, his supernatural strength taking him further than his human legs ever would. He landed on an air conditioning unit several meters away and used the small reprieve to take stock of the situation and ponder a few clever one-liners for when he finished off his foes.

He unsheathed his (very large and totally not overcompensating for anything) sword from where it typically sat at his hip. He gripped it tight, holding it high over his head before bringing it down in an arc before him. A beam of golden light shot out from the point and zoomed across the rooftop. With a collective piercing screech, one-third of the creatures were blasted into little more than clouds of dust, only the spectral beings that were restraining them remained floating in the air. Dropping down from his perch, he tried to calculate how many more goons he had to dispatch.

A masked woman appeared out of the shadows, calling to the dark blue spirits to her with an outstretched hand. Her cloak, a bright pink swathe about her shoulders with a cowl neck hood pulled over her head and a cape falling far below her knees. The gossamer fabric layered over it fluttered in the breeze like wings. He looked over his shoulder, not surprised in the least to find her standing there.

“It’s about time you decided to join us.”

“I couldn’t find the right time to make an entrance. It seemed as if you were having a bit of a moment there.” She jerked a thumb over her shoulder to point behind her, a crooked grin on her lips. “I can leave if you’d like.”

“No, it’s alright,” he grinned at her. “The conversation between us died a while ago. I think we’re at the awkward silence stage.”

“So tragic when that happens,” she sighed, looking at the nails of one hand in disinterest.

“Indeed.”

“And what do you plan to do about the rest of the family reunion of crazy fangirls?” she gestured to the remainder of the horde.

The area he cleared with the blast from his sword was quickly being refilled by those remaining as they lurched closer to them. They wailed and writhed as they surged forward. The pair instinctively took a step back and assumed an offensive stance.

“I was hoping to fake an emergency and duck out but, since you’re here, do you want to try the ‘Jealous Ex-Girlfriend’ ruse?” he suggested.

“I think the brilliance of our performance would be lost on this particular audience.” She looked around at the sea of ghastly phantoms surrounding them. “What happened this time?”

“An idol group had to cancel their live show after two of their members got into an accident,” he said it like it was an everyday occurrence. “The attendees were not happy, to say the least, and our mysterious nemesis decided to capitalize on all the negative energy.”

She hummed in acknowledgment. “No respect for the lives of entertainers as usual.”

“Typical.”

“So, shall we finish cleaning this up? I have to be back for filming in fifteen minutes and I know our manager probably had to come up with some ridiculous lie for your disappearance again.”

“It’s why he gets paid as well as he does.” The man beside her shrugged. “But, yes, let’s get this over with.”

They cleared away the rest of the ghastly shadows in record time, which meant he could return to work that much sooner. He had yet to regret having a partner once the opportunity was given to him. The bonus was that he could choose who it would be. It wasn’t a difficult choice, there was only one person he would ever consider.

With a nod, she turned to leave but he stopped her with a hand on her shoulder.

“Wait, will we get to see each other tonight?” he asked the woman in pink with a hopeful smile. “I’m supposed to finish early today.”

“Sadly, no.” She frowned “I have another late filming.”

“Again?! It’s like I never see you outside of the battle uniform anymore,” his lower lip pushed outward in a pout. “And we even have the same manager.”

“Well, maybe you would if you hadn’t given me this,” her finger tapped at the pink gem hanging from her neck. “Not only does it give me the ability to fight magical monsters, but I also swear it somehow makes me ridiculously popular.”

“To say that would be a discredit to all of your hard work, talent, and overall allure,” he admonished her with a gentle smile. “Still, I’d rather see you at times like this than not at all.”

The color that washed across her face at his words blended in with the rest of her outfit. She looked away from him, the gears in her mind all but grinding to a halt and her lips not far behind.

“I-I don’t even know why you chose me for this anyway,” she stuttered her protest. “Surely there’s someone you know who’s better at this.

He shook his head.

“There’s no one else I’d trust as implicitly to watch my back,” he answered truthfully. “Besides, considering how quickly you sussed me out when I was masquerading as Cain Heel, I don’t doubt you would’ve figured me out in this getup as well, should we ever cross paths.”

Not to mention her almost instant recognition of a certain fairy prince who was all grown up. Yes, even if he wasn’t irrevocably besotted with her—which he definitely, definitely was—it was still a good idea to have her assistance. It kept her close and informed and, hopefully, mitigated her propensity to worry about him. Technically, she still worried about him but now she at least had the supernatural powers to do something about it.

“I would’ve kept your secret,” she crossed her arms, shooting him a defiant look.

“I’ve no doubt about that, but I can only imagine the neverending questions,” he teased. “Like ‘Do you have to recite a special phrase to transform?’ or ‘Does your necklace also generate disguises?’ and ‘Are you secretly an alien prince from another world?’”

He knew her only too well. Those were exactly the kind of questions she would ask. The fact that he perfectly imitated her voice and speech pattern, complete with batting eyelashes meant that she was powerless to stop the impending laugh from escaping. And escape it did in a raucous guffaw.

“Okay, fine, you’ve got me there,” she wiped at her eyes. “Though, I would’ve backed off if you said you didn’t want to talk about it.”

“True, but you have to admit it’s more fun being a part of it,” he watched her nod and smile. “I mean, who wouldn’t want to be a magical girl if they got the chance?”

“Yeah, but most are high school students who only have to worry about school, and maybe that person they have a crush on,” she grumbled. “I have to worry about a career on top of all of that.”

“Oh? Is there a cute boy you have a crush on?” he tried to ask as mockingly as he could, failing miserably.

She reeled backward from the wrath she felt rolling off him in waves, her cloak fluttering in the breeze whipping across the rooftop.“Whoa, what’s with the sudden mood change?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He avoided her gaze.

“Oh, don’t play dumb with me, pretty soldier magical boy, I can tell when you’re angry,” she scolded. “Come on, out with it.”

“I… uh—” He scrambled to come up with an excuse. “Shouldn’t you be heading out? Your job’s halfway across the city.”

Her eyes widened at that and he thanked his lucky stars for the successful diversion. “Oh my goodness, you’re right,” she gasped, her cloak swirled around her as she turned to leave. “Tell that manager of ours I’ll see him in the morning!”

He stifled a sigh of relief and nodded. “I will. Be safe on your way back.”

She lifted two fingers in a mock salute. “You as well.”

He watched her hop from one rooftop to another in the distance. That was too close for comfort. He kept forgetting how sensitive she was to his changes in emotions and wondered if she felt it more acutely when transformed. Still, it was wrong that he felt oddly grateful for her obliviousness in this particular situation. She thought he was upset with her. Had she bothered to investigate further, she would’ve realized it was little more than petty jealousy.

Not that he had anything of substance to even be jealous about. She never confirmed whether or not she harbored feelings for anyone.

Once he neared the television studio, he dropped into an unlit alley to revert to his civilian form. Touching one hand to the pendant around his neck, the dark military-style suit with shiny brass buttons, green detailing, and far too many braided cords and metal embellishments to be practical was gone in an instant, leaving behind the man known to the rest of the country as Tsuruga Ren. When he re-entered the building, he was met by his manager who rushed towards him, looking worried.

“There you are! It took you long enough to get back. I can only run interference for you for so long, you know.”

“I know, and I appreciate your efforts, Yashiro-san, believe me,” he told the man earnestly. “What did you tell everyone this time?”

Ren’s manager was in on his secret for two reasons; the first being that he was there the day President Takarada gave him the ominous pendant, and all the responsibilities that went along with it. As such, he had someone with which to corroborate a story when he had to disappear for an undetermined amount of time. The second was that the man was too nosy for his own good. He had enough of a challenge keeping his true identity hidden as it was.

“I said you developed a sudden migraine and needed a moment to rest while I left to go to the pharmacy for some medication,” he thrust the small plastic bag he was holding into Ren’s hands.

The actor looked inside the bag to find an opened box of pills with four of them missing from their blister packaging and a half-consumed bottle of water.

“A four-pill migraine, huh? Nice work.”

“Well, there’s only so many prior commitments I can concoct before directors begin to think you’re just flaking out on them,” his manager huffed.

“And saying I developed a migraine doesn’t make me a diva?”

“If I use that excuse sparingly, it won’t.” Yashiro dismissed his concern. “Kyoko had a break between filming not long ago, I assume your lady love came to help you out?”

“Not that it’s any of your business, but yes,” he said, even though the whereabouts and safety of both him and Kyoko were very much their manager’s business. “She said she would see you in the morning.”

“You still haven’t told her how you feel, have you?”

Ah, there it was. The usual accusation that was clumsily hidden within a question.

“Sorry, we’ve been a little too busy trying to save the city.” Ren rolled his eyes.

“Oh, please, you’re just content to have a new way of monopolizing her time.” The older man seemed to beseech the heavens for divine guidance. “You both work in the same industry, you have the same manager and, now, you’re a magical superhero duo. What more do you want? To be joined at the hip?”

“Now is probably not the time to be discussing this,” Ren reminded him. “If I recall correctly, I’m still needed for filming, am I not?”

His manager irritatedly mumbled several things under his breath that Ren was glad he couldn’t hear as they walked back to the set. It’s not as if he didn’t want to tell Kyoko anything. It was the exact opposite. Unfortunately, it involved him revealing several other things that would snowball into a very lengthy, and possibly tense, conversation. He wasn’t sure if he was ready for that.

Still, he knew his manager had waged a war of attrition. At some point, his constant chastising would eventually wear him down. Between the two of them, he had nothing to lose in that situation. Ren was fighting a losing battle from the beginning.

And he knew it, too.

Thus, it should have surprised no one when he was with her on another random rooftop on another random night and their usual flow of banter had dwindled to comfortable silence that his last bastion finally crumbled.

“So, what would you say if I told you I was secretly an alien prince from another world?”

END

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote this quite a bit before current events in the manga took place and had half a mind to edit it to fit the current timeline. Then I ~~ran out of time~~ remembered that this is an AU anyway and I really didn’t need to. Thus, it remains as-is with only a few edits thrown in.
> 
> However, next time (if there is a next time) I'm putting Ren in the full sailor outfit, skirt and all, and he will rock it like a _DIVA._


	5. You Know What They Say About Idle Hands

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The LoveMe Girls get a peek at the one skill Kyoko has that won't ever be useful while acting. Probably.
> 
> _for the July 10th "hands" prompt_

Kanae and Chiori watched in muted fascination as their fellow LoveMe member sat at the table in their shared space, her hands deftly stitching a small bit of fabric. It wasn’t the action itself that made the scenario odd. It wasn’t even the fact that she was mumbling quietly to herself while she did it.

It was the fact that it was just shy of five o’clock in the morning and she was not exactly awake.

The girls were summoned early that day to help set up a large audition hall as the regular crew was short-staffed. Kanae was the last to arrive, right behind Chiori, who stopped short upon entering the room and finding Kyoko doing arts and crafts in a sleep-deprived stupor with her eyes partially open and glazed over. Kanae nearly ran into the back of her, before sidestepping at the last minute. Together, they looked at the scene before them in awe.

“Does she always do this?” Chiori whispered, reaching over to turn on a small desk lamp so that the room wasn’t completely dark.

Kanae nodded. “I’ve seen her do it a few times before. I just forgot she could literally do it in her sleep.”

“What is she making?” Chiori stepped closer to where Kyoko stitched like a woman possessed and leaned forward to get a better look.

“A doll, most likely.”

“A doll?”

Kanae muffled a snort and shook her head. “Trust me, you don’t want to know.”

“What does she do with them?”

“You probably don’t want to know that either,” Kanae said with a shrug before pointing back at LoveMe Number One. “But, I have a feeling you’re about to find out.”

Kyoko’s hands fumbled around inside the small bag she had on the table beside her and pulled out a handful of stuffing. The mumbling continued as she poked her fingers into the small hole she left open on the side of the doll, shoving small bits of stuffing at a time inside until the body took shape and sewing it shut once it was filled.

“Did she really embroider hair and a face on it?”

“She’s very… detail-oriented,” Kanae offered but avoided saying anything further.

“Tell me about it. I wonder who it’s supposed to be.”

The doll had chin-length dark hair, black button eyes, long legs, and a peaceful smile. Though it only wore a simple outfit of pants and a shirt, Kanae didn’t need three guesses as to who it was supposed to be. She had her suspicions; she’d had them for quite some time now considering how well-made Maria’s birthday present was. Kyoko had a tendency to obsess over things but, in particular, over things she had strong feelings about. For Kanae, it was less of a jump towards the obvious conclusion and more akin to stepping over a crack in the pavement.

They continued to watch as Kyoko neatly packed her supplies away. Once the materials were cleared from the surface, she cradled the doll in one arm and tucked it against her chest. With her other arm curled on top of the table, she rested her head on it and promptly fell asleep; complete with soft, rhythmic snoring.

Chiori stared at Kyoko in silent wonder for a long moment. “So, she made herself a stuffed animal to hug in her sleep?”

“Something like that.”

“That’s really…”

“Weird?” Kanae suggested.

“I was going to err on the side of caution and go with ‘impressive’ but, yea, that too. Should we wake her up? What time do we have to report to the audition hall?”

“Not for about another half hour,” Kanae confirmed with a glance at her watch. “Let her sleep.”

The girls left and went in search of anything that would suffice as a quick breakfast, leaving their comrade behind to catch a few more winks. As LME’s in-house dining had yet to open, a nearby cafe fulfilled their needs and they sat at a small table with hot drinks while waiting for their food to arrive. They sipped from their cups in silence while Chiori spun a napkin around on the table with one finger and stared off into space.

“You know, she works so hard when she’s awake,” she finally voiced her thoughts. “I really shouldn’t be surprised she can even do that in her sleep. But, seriously, doll-making?”

Kanae could only sigh. “Well, you know what they say about idle hands…”

In a large apartment somewhere else in the city, Ren, who had been tossing and turning in his bed, suddenly felt the comforting warmth of an embrace envelop him and drifted back to sleep with a smile.

END

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Buries self back under a giant pile of fluff* NOTHING TO SEE HERE!


	6. Far Away But Right Here

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just gonna warn you all up front that this will be a most unsatisfying kiss one-shot. Those of you who are looking for salacious lip-locking action might want to turn around now. For those of you whose curiosity has been piqued by my previous statement, come right in!
> 
> _for the July 11th 'kiss' prompt._

When he finally answered the door, Kyoko choked on her first instinct to voice her concern in favor of a slew of unasked questions that crowded her head. She couldn’t blame them really; not with the scene before her. All she wanted to do was stand there and gape, but her situational awareness was, thankfully, still enough intact that she ushered them both into his apartment and shut the door behind her.

“I didn’t realize you’d be arriving early.”

The first words out of Ren’s mouth were accompanied by what could only be described as panicked grooming. Hands brushed this way and that to smooth out wrinkles and push aside wayward hair.

“I-I’m not.” The words tumbled fully formed from her lips even though her mouth hung open.

Ren carefully stepped around her to pick up his phone where it lay on a small table by the door. A groan of defeat squirmed its way out of him and he hung his head.

“Ah, it seems that I’m the one who is behind schedule.”

“Guess we’ll have to change your nickname to Almost Never Late King.” The quip was out of her mouth before she could stop it.

In her defense, she was too preoccupied with gawking at Ren to recognize any form of propriety. That was not an uncommon occurrence when one was in his presence, for a variety of reasons. However, this reason was certainly of a much rarer sort. Kyoko’s eyes made their fifth circuit, sweeping from his feet to his head and taking in the full effect of the clothes he wore. And his _hair_. She had to force herself to look away from it.

“What… were you doing?” she asked, the words coming out careful and slow.

Finally noticing the way she stared at him, he looked down at himself. His face flushed with red instantly.

“I was… uh… cleaning.”

Suddenly, it all made sense. It wasn’t so much the green athletic shorts that hung from his hips, nor was it the blue t-shirt with barely visible lettering. It was the gray canvas apron tied haphazardly over said outfit, bunching and twisting the clothing below. It was the black plastic headband that zigzagged along his hairline, evenly segmenting the deep brown strands, pushing them up and out of his face until they fluffed backward like feathers. It was like Cain’s hair when he’d first wake up in the morning, soft and rumpled, and shaggy.

“You were cleaning?” she repeated his words to be sure she hadn’t lost them while otherwise preoccupied. “I always assumed you had someone clean for you.”

“Most of the time, yes,” he admitted. “But I chose to do it myself today.”

“You chose to?” His answer did little to resolve her bewilderment. “As in, you’re doing this on purpose? Because you wanted to?”

Sure, Kyoko could envision herself doing something similar if she was in the position to have someone else assume housekeeping duties but this was Ren. Ren, who had to be reminded to eat to the point of nagging, whose best attempt at making omurice resulted in charred eggs and mysterious yellow sand, and who was oblivious to the first symptoms of a cold.

“Since my other domestic skills are pretty much nonexistent, I wanted to put in some kind of effort for you.”

She wondered for a moment if he could read her mind when a more important question pushed that thought aside.

“For me?” she repeated him once more, not quite believing the truth of the words as she spoke them. “You cleaned your apartment for me?”

A whoosh of air pushed from his lips before he pursed them and his shoulders sagged. “Truthfully, I had a lot of nervous energy and I needed to do something with it,” he confessed, leading her into the living room. “Would you like something to drink before we get started?”

Kyoko couldn’t decide if her throat went dry because she was truly thirsty or if the apprehension towards what they were about to do created a veritable desert in her mouth out of the sheer need for a distraction. At least she wasn’t the only one apprehensive about what they planned to do. She shook her head all the same. The more time she had to think about it, the more likely she was to make an excuse to back out of it. She didn’t want to ask this of him but she trusted that he wouldn’t let things get too carried away. They’d figure it out.

Probably.

* * *

She gave it five attempts before pulling away from him to lean back against his couch. “Um, not to offend, Tsuruga-san, but are you sure you’re good at this?”

“Excuse me?” His tone told her he'd definitely taken offense.

“I mean, this doesn’t feel any different than kissing my hand,” she clarified.

It was nothing more than the press of skin against skin in the most clinical sense and it confused her. Wasn’t there supposed to be something more? This was the man who cornered her in an elevator to confess his love to her. The man who murmured words meant to inflame and impassion while he held her on his kitchen floor behind the guise of one man and held her on a hotel bed behind the guise of another. Hell, just the press of his lips to her cheek on Valentine’s Day was enough to send her into a spiral.

Wasn’t there supposed to be something _more_?

“That’s all stage kisses are,” he offered along with a shrug. “Were you expecting something different?”

“Yes? No? I don’t know,” she huffed in frustration. “The whole reason I asked for your help with this was that we already have this established—” She waved a hand, gesturing to both of them. “—thing between us, so it would be less awkward, you know?”

She watched his eyebrow arc high on his forehead. “Honestly, it makes this more awkward.”

Kyoko let her head tilt to one side in her confusion. He sighed.

“When I have to do this as part of a role, I’m doing it as my character,” he explained. “Whatever emotion is put into it are those of the person I’m portraying and how they feel towards the person played by my counterpart. So it’s more difficult to kiss you as ‘just an actor’ without that.”

“Because of how you feel about me?”

He nodded. She understood.

Wasn’t that the same reason she used with Corn? She had to concoct a role for herself just to detach from the fact that she was about to kiss the face of the man she loved. That extra degree of separation kept what she hid deep in her heart from spilling forth. 

“Actor’s Rule of Heart,” she mused aloud, staring at nothing in particular.

“For the most part,” Ren’s dry mirthless chuckle caught her attention. “But that second bit about never using it twice on the same person in your private life was added purely out of jealousy. I never should have disguised such a selfish demand as some sort of crucial acting lesson. For that, I’m sorry.”

The flush of his cheeks and the way he avoided her gaze only made her stare longer. He was jealous, even back then, and he was ashamed of himself for it. Earning her respect was that important to him. And, there she was, enlisting his help so she could take on a wider variety of roles with greater confidence. Because he’s probably kissed hundreds of women; what was one more? But he was deliberately holding himself back. For her. 

How foolish of her to think that she was just ‘one more.’ 

“I shouldn’t have asked you.”

This time he let out a proper laugh. “Considering what you know now of my jealous streak, do you think I would’ve reacted well if you tried to do this with anyone else?”

“Even Kotonami-san?”

“Especially her.” 

She waited for him to explain why but he shook his head. Reaching up, he unhooked the ends of his headband, sending his hair tumbling into his face. He pushed it back with his fingers, ending the motion with a vigorous scratch to the back of his head. It looked as if he was gathering his thoughts so she waited for him to toss the headband aside and compose himself with a deep breath.

“I want to prove that I can still be a mentor without taking advantage of our feelings for each other.”

“You don’t have to,” she assured.

His head shook in defiance. “I want to see you grow and flourish as an actor. You have so much potential and I want to be a part of it in whatever way I can. It would mean a lot to me even if I wasn’t madly in love with you.”

“But you are,” she reminded him.

He held up a hand in unabashed admission. “Guilty as charged.”

“So you’re just going to keep testing the limits of your restraint for my sake?” She felt disheartened on his behalf. “Why would you torture yourself like that?”

“Once I’m deserving of being yours, every kiss and touch from that point on would mean so much more to me than anything I could allow myself to have now.” His eyes were clear and earnest and it sent her heart thundering in her chest. “I don’t know if I have the resolve to make it that far, but it’s worth it to me to try.”

The softening of her expression was at complete odds with the upheaval taking place inside her. Kyoko twisted her body to face him better. It seemed a paltry attempt to equalize their situation because she only faced him physically while he was facing her emotionally.

“Who would’ve guessed that, behind the playboy exterior, you’re a hopeless romantic?”

There was that awfully timed humor again. Her voice sounded strained even to her. He leaned towards her and she wondered if the pounding of blood in her ears would render her deaf.

“I have dated other women.” It sounded less like a boast and more like an austere statement of fact. “I did and said whatever I assumed would show that I treasured them because I _thought_ I loved them.”

The word he chose to emphasize slipped from her lips, soft and light, and barely there, while she pondered what he meant by it. That only caused him to lean closer so he could hear it.

“Yes. Because, with you, I _know,_ and whatever I say or do never feels like it’s enough.”

He was far enough away to be courteous, but she felt his breath on her face all the same. It drew her eyes to his mouth and they fixated on every shadow of every crease in his lips. She knew if she stared any longer she would undo the careful control he built while frantically cleaning his entire apartment. They needed a diversion. She cleared her throat and dislodged her tongue from where it stuck itself to the roof of her mouth.

“I think I’d like that drink now.”

END

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted to write a different take on a 'Ren has to teach Kyoko how kiss because acting reasons' and have the kissing be absolutely terrible. Then had the dangerous thought of "what if I wrote this as a fic for the 'kiss' prompt, and deliberately omit any real kissing from it?" That was the beginning of the end, my friends. So, if you liked it, great! If you were left feeling wholly unsatisfied, mission accomplished.


	7. The Possibility of Darkness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An angsty (but hopeful) look at the Dark Moon stunt incident from Ren's perspective. Because **you were warned about the angst sandwich!**
> 
> _for the July 12th 'risk' prompt_

Honestly, he should’ve seen the warning signals from miles away.

It was a beautiful, cloudless day. A light breeze swept through the city streets and the sun shone brilliantly, reflecting in dazzling sparkles off of every lustrous surface it touched. The temperature was mild, considering the season, and most people walked around comfortably in light jackets. In short, the day was perfect.

Too perfect.

As if the day couldn’t get any more idyllic, she came to visit him on set. A small shopping bag swung freely where it hung from her curled fingers as she respectfully greeted him in her usual manner. She was a vision in her costume and makeup and he made short work of moving her far away from anyone else’s prying eyes when she arrived. If the powers that be saw fit to grace him with her presence before the filming of what was going to be a very tense, action-packed scene, he was not about to share his luck with anyone else.

She was beautiful and she was there. Just to see him. He wondered for the briefest moment if some deity would require a ritual sacrifice for something like this to happen again. If so, he might consider performing said rite in the future.

He looked at the pale pink gem hanging from her neck as it picked up the sunlight, twisting and morphing it to its will. It made him smile with pride. That was his ever-so-subtle mark on her and, while he wished for something far more ostentatious—a billboard declaring her off-limits, maybe—it was not her style. To be fair, it wasn’t his style either. But, that didn’t stop him from desiring it any less.

As if he even had some sort of claim over her anyway.

They walked idly back towards the location where she would be filming and he was unable to stop staring at her. Her hair fluttered in the breeze and her skin seemed to glow. Captivated, he tried to tell her how beautiful she was, but she carelessly threw his words away as if they were nothing.

That should have been his next clue.

When she began to talk about protective charms, he wished she had given him one. If he couldn’t have her heart, he would’ve at least treasured that for the rest of his life. He told her as much and she vehemently disagreed. As far as she was concerned, he didn’t need one. Only a fool would give him a charm because they believed he was about to do something that potentially put his life at risk. She had the utmost faith in his abilities and knew he was entirely capable of performing the stunt without incident. He was in no danger. But she wished he would be safe all the same.

That should have been a clue with a giant red arrow made of flashing neon lights.

By the time he was behind the wheel, he was in the zone. The practice run had gone smoothly and everything was currently progressing so well that he had the fleeting thought he could probably do it with his eyes closed. The needle on the gauge in front of him pushed higher and higher as he accelerated with almost reckless precision. He was riding the adrenaline high that buzzed through his brain and sizzled all the way to his fingertips and there was no tiny voice to warn him that this was going too perfectly.

But there should have been.

He would have liked to claim that the small, baseball-capped head of the child as he ran into the crosswalk came out of nowhere. However, heightened as his senses were at that moment, he noticed it right away. Tires squealed in a deafening whine as he stomped his foot down onto the brake pedal. He half considered offering up a brief prayer if that same deity from before was still looking down on him.

The entire car shuddered and jerked as the brakes strained to bring it to a stop and that was the last thing he remembered.

All he knew after that was darkness. He’d seen this darkness before and it was no stranger to him. It wrapped around him in a cold embrace and made a shiver run clear down his spine. Years ago, he’d fought his way out of this very same darkness—with a little help, of course. This time, he wondered if he was strong enough to make it out once more.

Or if he even wanted to.

Then, the nightmares came again. The ones that reminded him of the monster he kept hidden inside himself. The ones that kept him constantly aware of why he would never deserve happiness. They smelled of blood and asphalt and death. They felt like broken glass, broken bones, and guilt. He curled in on himself and whimpered, hoping they would go away and leave him in peace.

They mocked his hope. He was fairly certain he could hear jeering laughter.

Something warm touched him then, but he was afraid to see what it was. It was probably more blood, he assumed. Or tears from the woman whose wailing keened in his ears, over and over without end. It pressed more firmly against and he heard a familiar, lilting voice. Muffled as it was, he could not quite make out what they were saying but he fought to concentrate on it. Somehow he knew that voice was his only way out of the darkness so he clung to it like driftwood being thrown about a wrathful sea.

It got stronger and clearer the more he focused on it. Suddenly, he could understand the words that were being said to him. Suddenly, he could see the lips that were speaking them. His eyes refocused and he saw the look of concern and fear on the face of an angel who held his hand and spoke softly to him. Her golden eyes pierced through the remaining darkness as she continued to call out to him asking if he could hear her.

He smiled.

Yes, he could hear her loud and clear. The sun shone brightly once more and the beautiful day he remembered welcomed him back with open arms. He tried his best to put the swirling darkness from his mind and held fast to the hand of the only protective charm he would ever need. She’d saved him from that awful place and, as long as he had her, he would never have to go back.

However, if it weren’t for the darkness, her beacon would not have shone so brightly from its midst. Perhaps going back was not as terrifying as he thought.

He now had her to light the way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is actually a pretty old piece I wrote for a prompt exercise with friends but never posted. It fit the bill here, so I figured, what the heck, now is as good a time as any.
> 
> Well, that's it for Ren/Kyoko Week 2020! Thanks for stopping by and reading. Be kind to each other, be kind to yourselves, and stay well, everyone!


End file.
